"I CAN never tire my eyes in looking at such lovely vegetation, so different from ours . . . the herbage like April in Andalusia . . . the trees are as unlike ours as night from day, as are the fruits, the herbs, the stones, and everything, . . . and I feel the most unhappy man in the world not to know them. The mountains and islands seem to be second to none in the world; . . . there is much gold, the Indians wear it as bracelets on the arms, on the legs, in the ears and nose, and round the neck, . . . flocks of parrots conceal the sun." These are among the expressions with which Columbus sought to make known to the Spanish sovereigns the beauty, the richness, and the strangeness of the land he had taken possession of in their name. Americus Vespucius, who visited the new world a few years later than Columbus, and whose name by strange chance remained with it, noted its "altogether delightful" climate, its many hills, lakes, rivers and forests, as well as the various species of wild animals and the numerous parrots with which it abounded, together with the gold which the natives told him was so abundant it was little esteemed. "In short," he concludes his narrative, "if there is an earthly paradise in the world, without doubt it must be not far from this place."
True to these conceptions of primitive America, which long continued to color the imaginations of Europeans, are the fanciful scenes (illustrated in a later chapter) wherewith the Staffordshire potters sought to picture pioneer incidents of American history. In them, unfamiliar trees and shrubs are introduced, together with Indians gowned in paint and feathers and adorned with golden ornaments, against backgrounds of imaginary forest or mountain scenery. Parrots appear in a border device, another border presenting flowers and animals supposed to be native to the little known wilderness regions.
With the passing of the years and the increase of ocean travel, a truer and somewhat more extended knowledge of the new world became diffused throughout the countries of Europe. Many people, for one cause or another of discontent, abandoned their homes in order to adventure others in America; until the seventeenth century saw the Atlantic seacoast from Canada to Florida dotted with Old-World settlements. French adventurers and missionaries came into the region of the Saint Lawrence River; English Puritans settled the shores of Massachusetts Bay; traders from Holland made homes upon Manhattan Island; English planters sought the fertile hillsides of Virginia; and Spain sent her knights to Florida in quest of the Fountain of Eternal Youth.
Land companies sprang up in Europe, whose business it was to exploit their broad, and oft-times vague, American acres, and to direct to them departing groups of emigrants. But even after the political independence of the new country had been achieved, ignorance of the conditions there to be met with continued widespread. A curious French volume of the year 1803, entitled, "The Pros and Cons, or Advice for Those who Intend to go to the United States of America, Followed by a description of Kentucky and Genesee, two of the most important settlements of the New World," was written, the author states, to aid intending settlers, "all of whom lack definite directions." "The United States of America," he begins, "are not yet entirely cultivated, centuries will probably roll away before they will be." He then proceeds to divide the territory into three regions. The first, nearest to the cities and the coast, is best cultivated, "with farms so close together that it seems a continuous village"; the second, as one goes into the interior, is less cultivated, with villages small and far apart, "a saw mill and a flour mill and a few houses there forming an important settlement." To the west of these regions he recounts a third—a wilderness of forest and stream recently inhabited by savage tribes who have "now departed to the Great Lakes and the immense River of Mississippi," beyond which the author's knowledge, or imagination, does not venture to stray. He recites the advantages of the many rivers—the Hudson, carrying the products of New York State to the seaboard; the Delaware, bearing its "multitude of vessels" laden with the wealth of Pennsylvania to the cities at its mouth; the Ohio, entering the Mississippi with the produce of Kentucky to exchange for "the piastres of the Spaniards" at New Orleans. The "Endless Mountains" (Alleghany range), he states, divide the United States into two natural parts and are its backbone, even as the Apennines are of Italy. The East is more populous, and the West is where the new settlements are located—one of these settlements being toward the south, "at the rear of Virginia," and called Kentucky; the other, toward the north, "at the rear of Pennsylvania," and known as the Genesee country (then controlled by the Holland Land Company). The cession of Louisiana to France by Spain, he declares, has much alarmed the United States by threatening to cut off the navigation of the Ohio River. He closes his interesting volume with a Salve to the great rivers and lakes of the New World, and the hope for those who betake themselves thither, "May they leave in Europe their vices and their misery and carry with them only their virtues."
Maps of the United States were outlined for the further convenience of prospective settlers, and as this was the period when English potters were utilizing American- subjects for decoration, one of them was printed upon a set of Liverpool pitchers. The design presents an oval framing the section of the world then known as the new Republic of the United States. The Atlantic coast, though heavily lined, is uncertain in detail, and names of cities and towns are thickly printed against it. The northernmost region is Canada, bounded by the chain of the Great Lakes. A number of States are designated, and the indefinite region to the west stretching from Canada on the north to the Gulf of Mexico in the south is marked "Louisiana." "Liberty," of course, is present, in the form of her contemporary European prototype—a female figure holding aloft a pointed cap. She is here represented calling the attention of George Washington to the map, the first President standing by her side with the inevitable scroll, presumably the Declaration of Independence, in his hand; while Fame floats above them upon a cloud, bearing a wreath marked "Washington," and trumpeting his glory to the world. Benjamin Franklin, who assisted in the achievement of independence and who, like Washington, was a wellknown figure in Europe, is seated upon the opposite side of the map, an open book in his hand and History, personified as a woman, behind his chair. A detail of historic interest is the pine-tree flag displaying upon its starry field the newly chosen Seal of the Republic, both flag and seal being described in a later chapter.
So thoroughly did the early nineteenth-century artists perform their task of securing sketches of American scenery for reproduction upon Staffordshire pottery, that it is quite possible by means of the decorations (a small number only of which are presented in this and the preceding chapter) to enable the student of our early history to make a fairly complete tour of the land, and to look upon it as it appeared a century ago. Starting at the northernmost extremity of the country as it is portrayed upon the map pitcher, the city of Quebec is first displayed upon a plate, seated, as at the present day, upon her mighty citadel of rock, the original Lower Town of her French founder, Champlain, huddled at the cliff's base and washed by the broad Saint Lawrence River. A yellow jug of Liverpool manufacture pictures an imaginary death-scene of the British General Wolfe who, in the year 1759, having successfully scaled the rock, expired upon the Plains of Abraham at the moment of the victory of his troops over the French—the battle which gave Quebec into the hands of the English. One artist went out to the far-famed falls of Montmorenci, a few miles above Quebec, and in his sketch one looks upon the imposing cataract as it appeared before its volume had been reduced, by mechanical use, to the trickling stream which meets the eye of the visitor of to-day.
Passing southward, the mountain ranges, country roadways, and log houses of primitive New Hampshire, "Vermont and Massachusetts, are displayed in a variety of sketches; a fort in Rhode Island is pictured; while a separate chapter records the appearance of the city of Boston. Examining the beautiful Pittsfield platterscene, the beholder pauses to learn its story. In Revolutionary times, it is recorded, a primitive Meeting House stood upon the site of the white church facing the Common, whose pastor was the Reverend Thomas Allen, an ardent patriot who had served as chaplain to the American army under Washington. Upon the Sabbath morning following his return to Pittsfield (so the story goes), Parson Allen entered his pulpit, clad in Continental uniform concealed beneath his gown. He began his sermon, but his zeal for his country's cause becoming so overpowering he soon threw aside his robe and displayed himself to his people in army uniform. He stepped down from his pulpit and led the men of the congregation to the Common in front of the church, and under the elm tree he formed them into the first detachment of Berkshire Minutemen. The elm became therefrom one of the historic trees of America; "from Greylock to Monument Mountain," the saying ran, there being no inanimate thing "so revered and venerable." The tree may be seen in the illustration as it appeared about the year 1825, after a fence had been built around it to preserve it from destruction as a hitching post for horses. In 1861, it was felled by a lightning stroke and its sound wood was made into souvenirs; at the present time, in the center of the beautiful, elm-shaded park of the city of Pittsfield, a sun-dial erected by the Daughters of the American Revolution marks the historic spot where the old elm stood. To the right of the white church, which is the First Congregational edifice, the illustration presents the old Town Hall, and at its left the First Baptist Church, with the Berkshire Hotel by its side.
A view of the town square of New Haven, Connecticut, printed in the lighter colors of a later period of Staffordshire potting, exhibits Yale College, together with the Connecticut State House. In contrast to the interest displayed by the old-time artists in the halls of Harvard which resulted in numerous pottery souvenirs, Yale College, though second only to the Boston institution in age, appears in few decorations only, the work of less important potters.
The Hudson River affords a delightful imaginary excursion possible to be made by means of the many illustrations of its beauties which exist upon pottery, delightful by reason of the scenery and historical associations, as well as for the presence, rare in our land, of the legendary folk who people its banks. One English potter, James Clews, decorated a set of plates in various colors with views copied from water color sketches of Hudson River scenery painted by W. G. Wall and reproduced in England in a volume called "The Hudson River Portfolio." Upon the back of each plate, printed in a scroll, is the legend, "Picturesque Views of the Hudson River." The border of the series, a spray of rose branches with parrots perched upon them, is one of the most graceful to be found. It is of interest to know that in the year 1836, some time after these plates were printed, James Clews came to the United States and engaged in potting in Indiana, but being unsuccessful he remained but a short time and returned to end his days in England. Enoch Wood also printed a series of Hudson River views in deep blue color, with his famous sea-shell border.
Setting out from New York, the illustrations of which another chapter presents, the first view in the Hudson River series is of West Point. High on a plateau above the river and crowned with lofty mountain peaks, may be seen the small group of buildings which was the nucleus of the present Military Academy, founded in 1802. Newburgh is portrayed as a small village on the river bank, appearing no doubt as it did on the evening when General Lafayette stepped ashore on his famous visit in 1824, and was driven through its muddy, torch-lighted streets to the Orange Hotel where impatient guests awaited his tardy arrival. One may possibly discover in the picture the balcony upon which the French General presented himself in order to quell the tumult of the crowds below.
The traveler presently enters the enchanted region of the Catskills, the legendary abode of the ancient squaw whose duty it is forever to open the doors of day and night, to hang up new moons in the sky, and to cut the old ones into stars. In these oft-pictured wilderness heights dwells Manitou, the great Indian Spirit, who in the form of a bear was wont to lead the redmen a chase through the forests—and hark! Is not the vague rumbling sound reverberating through the valleys the echo of the ninepins of Hendrick Hudson and his somber crew? A famous inn situated high in the mountains, Pine Orchard House, gleams white against the dusky pines, as one continues up the river, and here and there along the banks picturesque mills and villages and mountain passes are, by means of the illustrations, opened to his view.
Albany, the oldest city in the Union, boasts a state Capitol, fine churches, and a harbor filled with busy shipping; one decoration shows a passage to the city from the islands made in a ferry boat called a "horse's back," carrying both animals and men. Albany at the period of the imaginary tour has a population of about 16,000 people, and is one of the most important commercial cities in the United States, all western produce entering by way of the newly-built Erie Canal, and shipped thence to eastern ports, twenty-four steamboats plying the river between Albany and New York. A covered vegetable dish, whose medallion portraits of the four men whom the English potters commonly associated with the Erie Canal place it among the memorials of that enterprise, presents upon the surface of its interior the Dutch church of Albany, one of the seven churches of the country to be perpetuated in pottery decoration. The original edifice was erected in the year 1652, a second in 1655, around which the walls of the third structure, here shown, were carried up and enclosed without disturbing the old edifice. This illustration is of importance as presenting one of the earliest types of church building in America, its square proportions and its pyramidal roof topped with a belfry contrasting with the rectangular bodies and tall slender spires which characterize many of the later models. This structure resembles in its outlines the "Old Ship Meeting House," a co-temporary which still stands at Hingham, Massachusetts. The interior of the Albany church was gayly painted and ornamented, with a pulpit of polished Dutch oak. Low galleries, to which the men were relegated, lined three sides of the interior, and a bell rope hung down in the center aisle which when not in use was wound round a post set in the center for the purpose. Rich stained glass windows displayed the arms of eminent Dutch families, members of whom were accustomed to bring hot bricks or portable stoves to keep their feet warm during the long winter service, the men sitting with hats on their heads and their hands in muffs. Deacons went around with collection bags on the end of long poles, to which little bells were attached, their tinkling arousing any sleepers and preventing drowsiness from being an excuse for failure to contribute. The structure was demolished in 1806, much of the material being put into the Second Dutch Reformed Church.
When in the year 1824, Lafayette looked upon the town of Troy with its 8,000 inhabitants, appearing much as it is pictured upon the plate, he exclaimed in astonishment, "What! Has this city risen from the earth by enchantment I" For here it was that he, in Revolutionary times, with difficulty could find a cup of milk and a bit of Indian bread at the two or three humble cabins which then composed the settlement. The northernmost of the Hudson River series of sketches presents the village of Luzerne, among the Adirondacks near the river's source, while, continuing northward, Lake George may be seen—a shining mirror framed in wooded hills.
Several charming bits of New Jersey and Pennsylvania river and mountain scenery may be seen upon specimens of old pottery. The Falls of Passaic, on a sugar bowl, were famous for their beauty a century ago; very lovely, too, is the view of the headwaters of the Juniata River, the stream which flows so peacefully through southern Pennsylvania. In the distance rise the rugged peaks of the "Endless Mountains," in the foreground may be seen the trees and flowers native to the region—and, may not the tourist with bundle slung over shoulder, crossing the rustic bridge, be the very traveler from England who, struck with the charm of the spot, set down his burden for awhile and added this scene to his sketch book? Pittsburgh is presented as a row of low buildings bordering the banks at the confluence of the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers, with two primitive vessels sailing past the town. In the nearby village of Allegheny is the Penitentiary, an imposing structure for so early a date. When Lafayette visited Pittsburgh, about the time these pictures were made, it had a population of 8,000 and the French party were much interested in examining the manufacturing plants for which Pittsburgh was already famous. Among the objects presented to Lafayette were some mirrors made in this city which he declared equal to any produced in France. Continuing southward, Virginia landscapes of rolling hills and substantial plantation homes are spread out to view, while the attractions of the cities of Baltimore and Washington are set forth in separate chapters.
Before the days of railroads, few tourists made the long and difficult and oft-times dangerous journey into the sparsely settled regions of the far South and West, sections now known as the States of North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Louisiana, Michigan, Kentucky, and the valleys of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers; for this reason, a less number of pictured views of these localities are to be found. The cities of Richmond, Charleston, Savannah, New Orleans, Columbus, and Sandusky are exhibited in the old-china records by one or two views each. Detroit, no doubt, appears here as it did during the exciting period of the War of 1812, when the city was one of the disputed battle-grounds upon the western frontier. Its houses, as may be noted, faced the river, and, for the purpose of mutual protection, they were set close together in well ordered rows, their farm lands, like the tails of Bo-Peep's sheep, "behind them." The several examples of sailing craft pictured in Detroit harbor, one of them a newly invented stern-wheeler, are also of interest. Louisville, Kentucky, offers to view a substantial stone structure—the Marine Hospital, a government home for those who sailed the inland rivers and lakes; while Lexington, in the same State, boasts Transylvania University, erected in 1783, the first institution for learning west of the Alleghanies, from whose halls, the French author already quoted gravely asserts, a printing press sent out each week a gazette "to even the most distant farms with all the news of both the Old and the New World."
Beyond the Mississippi lies, at the period of this imaginary tour, the unknown—a region of vast extent and vague knowledge, called Louisiana, a region of mystery wherein fancy pictured limitless plains crossed by rushing floods and peopled by savage Indian tribes. The geographers of the day taught that the Mississippi separated Louisiana "from the United States and West Florida" on the east, its western boundary being New Mexico and "a ridge of mountains generally denominated the Shining Mountains, which divide the western waters of the Mississippi from those that flow into the Pacific Ocean." Not until the discovery of California gold in 1849, and the consequent tide of humanity toward it, was the region of the literally shining mountains opened to the general knowledge of the world.
The imaginary Tour of Colonial America, conducted by means of contemporary pottery, comes to an end at the most celebrated spot upon the continent—Niagara Falls. To look upon the "great Cataract of Niagara" was the ambition of every early European traveler to America, and for centuries the journey thither was the world's "grand tour." First reports of this wonderful fall of water came from the Indians who, in the early part of the seventeenth century, told Champlain and the Huron missionaries of a great body of water which "fell from a rock higher than the tallest pine trees." A few years later, French officers stationed at Fort Niagara made sketches of the Falls and carried them to Europe, together with tales of the grandeur of the spectacle hidden in the wilds of this new country. Eager tourists, fired by the accounts, came over to see the wonder, walking all the way from Boston or New York, or driving over almost impassable roads. Each gazer upon the spectacle felt called upon to record his impressions, and many and varied are the emotions chronicled; to some, the sight is an "ode" or a "rhapsody"; for others, its influence depresses the spirits. One tourist is disappointed because he is not, as he expected, met by a "vision of foam and fury and dizzy cliffs, and the ocean tumbling down out of the sky." A practical English captain, whose mind was probably filled with the new ideas of steam-power, longed to carry the Falls to Italy, pour their volume into the crater of Vesuvius, and thus "create the largest steam boiler that ever entered into the imagination of man!" Lafayette, as he looked upon the cataract, regretted that their distance from his estate in France prevented his buying them.
Many tourists ventured out upon the broad flat rock which overhung the Horseshoe Fall, the celebrated Table Rock, the sketch being of special interest as the rock no longer stands. Table Rock was an excellent point from which to view the Falls, from it one being also able to gaze down into the brilliant green flood directly underneath him. At noonday, on June 25, 1850, the great Rock fell. The driver of an omnibus driving out upon the rock to wash his vehicle, had unhitched his horses and was at work, when of a sudden he heard the rock upon which he was standing give a loud cracking sound. No sooner had he led his horses to the land than the huge mass went down, carrying his empty omnibus with it into the gulf below.
Niagara Falls has been called the most pictured subject in the world, and the Niagara of Art equals in interest and variety the literary expressions it inspired. The first Niagara picture was drawn as early as 1697, from a description of it given by Father Hennepin, a French missionary who accompanied La Salle upon his expedition into the Niagara region. In this picture the English artist in imagination looks down upon the Falls and sees the river bordered with mountains all the way to Lake Erie. Three falls of water appear, Goat Island is but a slender pillar of rock, and from the banks and the island rise curious tropical trees. This old copper plate engraving was for many years the only Niagara picture, and from it the untraveled world gained its knowledge of the wonder. The Hennepin picture was many times copied, and each succeeding artist, who had never seen the Falls, added touches according to his fancy—a colony of busy beavers in the foreground gnawing down trees, or a band of redmen chasing bison across the stream below the Falls. A richer imagination put in Elijah emerging in a chariot of fire from the clouds above the cataract. Occasionally three distinct falls of water are found in an old print, the sharp bend in the Horseshoe Fall being difficult for the unskilled artist to depict. Not until nearly a century later than Father Hennepin's picture did the world possess, in drawings from the original, a more exact Niagara.
The Niagara of the early sketches is the Niagara of the Staffordshire potters, two of whose views are presented. In the first picture one seems to be looking upon the rushing flood from a point on the American side above the Falls. Three distinct cascades are visible, the familiar expanse of Goat Island has shrunk to a tree-crowned rock, and—can it be ? Yes, there stand the pioneer Niagara Falls bridal couple!—the first of the long series of newly wed whose descendants still haunt the witching scenes about this mighty cataract. The bridegroom is pointing with his walking stick into the chasm, evidently explaining the mysteries of the swirling torrent to the wondering mind of his bride, who stands meekly by his side arrayed in shawl and poke bonnet—glass of early nineteenth century fashion! The second view of the Niagara spectacle is more fanciful than the first, and is no doubt a composition made from old prints by one who had never seen the original In this scene the eye is carried up the gorge to the curve of the Horseshoe Fall; Goat Island and the American Fall are quite insignificant; and peculiar semi-tropical trees and foliage conceal from view the rugged banks with which our eyes are familiar.
(From The Blue-China Book by Ada Walker Camehl, 1916.)
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